Colours
by TheDrunkenWerewolf
Summary: There's an old story that you see the world in black and white until you meet your soulmate. Aizen doesn't believe it. Until he encounters Gin. It's not the sudden burst of technicolour he expects, but colour does come into his life, just in little splashes. Fluff with mild angst/feelings.


Summary: There's an old story that you see the world in black and white until you meet your soulmate. Aizen doesn't believe it. Until he encounters Gin. It's not the sudden burst of technicolour he expects, but colour does come into his life, just in little splashes.

Business: Do I look like I own anything? No. Well, maybe the voice. Thanks to Catsafari for enthusiastically letting me take from her piece 'Roses Are Red' for this. (if you haven't go and read it, it's amazing)

Wordcount: 3227

a/n: First of all, happy new year and may it be full of good fics :)

For Cat, for the inspiration and that great ficlet :) This is... _Not_ the fic I was expecting to write over the holidays, but it's a fic. This piece is inspired by Cat's TCR ficlet and was written with her permission and enthusiasm. It's also _not_ the fic I said I was gonna use this concept for (you know my reasons for not posting that one) but it'll do for now.

notes: Mild angst. Flower language. Subtle romance. AU-ish. Slowburn. Standalone ficlet with themes, scenes and concepts borrowed from my other works for the sole purpose of breaking reader hearts.

Written/typed to Circus-P's song 'warning signs' featuring Gumi. [put captions on if you youtube it for lyrics, it is japanese].

Based on the concept that you see in colour the first time when you meet your soulmate.

* * *

"_There wouldn't be life without colour."_

_\- Antony T. Hincks_

**Colours **

Aizen Sousuke's world had never been colourful. The world was very much black and white to him. Not that he cared. If there was any colour, he never really paid any attention to it. Being far too focused on achieving his goals. And fulfilling the godawful pact with the hollow he'd foolishly agreed to when he'd been a child. The great grizzly skull of the bear, fangs still dripping blood still haunted him. But even in his nightmares, the world was very much black and white.

There was an old story he heard somewhere once. How everyone supposedly sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate, when the whole world bursts into full, vivid technicolour. He never believed it. Old wives tales. Bedtime stories for starving Rukon children to help them sleep at night.

And even if he did believe, it wouldn't matter. Because he couldn't afford to have a soulmate. He couldn't afford to have anyone get hurt just by being in close proximity to him.

So his world was a monochromatic one. Bland, boring, dull. But most of all, it was _safe. A_nd that was the way it would stay. After all, love nothing, care for no-one, and nothing can be used against you. Better to keep the world in black and white than to have colour only for it to be taken away.

At least, this is what he tells himself as he shakes off his daydreams and dresses for work and leaves the house.

. . .

It's a dawn like any other. Black lightening to grey, brightening to white. Grey pavements as he walks to the school to start his newly thrust upon him teaching career. Grey desks. Grey students. White chalk. Black blackboard.

Bland. Monochrome. Dull.

Until he sees _**silver**__._

It takes him quite by surprise, as it's the first splash of real colour seen in his world in a _long_ time. It's accompanied by a shy smile and a shrug of the silver boy's shoulders, and then suddenly he's forgotten what he was in the middle of saying, and he's dropped his chalk, and now the whole class is giggling at him.

All except one. The silver one. The important one. And suddenly he doesn't mind half as much.

So he picks up his chalk and recovers quickly, as he's always done, and finds his little classroom that little bit brighter for the next two hours.

. . .

The brightness leaves when Gin does – Sousuke learned the boy's name from the class register – and he's torn. The best thing to do – the _right_ thing to do – would be to leave now so he doesn't drag this Gin into a whole world of hurt. Because people involved with him have a habit of winding up hurt. Or dead.

But he's far too intrigued, and the splash of colour he's seen is far too intoxicating, and really it's been _lonely_ for the past hundred years, that he just can't seen to bring himself to walk away.

So when Gin comes to him once the class ends with questions, he doesn't send the young man away. And he enjoys the sight of silver for just a little bit longer.

. . .

It comes a little time later, but eventually _**red**_ creeps into his life.

It is not the red of flowing blood as one might expect, it's a softer red than that. Though it is no less striking in its intensity.

He is teasing Gin, playing the lovesick fool and enjoying it for once. Joking about how they fit together, all lewd suggestions and nonsense. Until all the levity dies when he holds Gins hand, and those unusually squinted eyes open up for him. Revealing a colour more precious than the rubies the red was named for.

And for a moment the world stops turning.

. . .

Later, he's still thinking of that lovely red. Eyes scanning his garden to see if he can see that same colour.

He doesn't, of course. For that colour is unique. But he finds a red tulip, and that's close enough.

So he tells Gin to wait a moment while he cuts off the tulip. He returns to Gin with his offering, "for you," he says, and Gin takes it off him, a soft "thankyou," on his lips. And the red in Aizen's world is swiftly followed by _**pink**_ in the form of a blush on Gin's cheeks.

. . .

The brown of the stew comes as a surprise, though not as much as the blue does.

But before that comes _**purple.**_

It's after the tulip, either the next day or the day after that, he doesn't remember.

All he remembers clearly is one warm morning he passes Gin on the way to the classroom and finds a new colour sitting in a little glass as a makeshift vase.

_**Lavender.**_

Lavender for mistrust. He knows what it means, and Gin knows what it means, so there's no room for any doubt.

Not when Gin has his flower dictionary.

His heart sinks. The voice in his head laughs. Calls him a fool and a pussy and a load of other things because _what did you expect, Sousuke?_

The namecalling continues, but he's stopped listening. All he can think about if the purple-hued flower and what it means.

_If distrust were a flower, then I'd pick you, _he imagines Gin shoving the plant in his nose and laughing.

And his stomach ties itself up in knots because he'll _never_ be able to disassociate that colour from the way he feels now.

. . .

Thankfully, the _**blue**_ that follows is much more pleasant. And accompanied by a feeling of warmth.

They are walking through the market, with the annual food festival going on. And Gin was feeling self-conscious about the dark hickeys on his neck. Aizen is looking for something to help hide them. Eyes casting about for something. Finally spotting a rack of scarves outside of a shop.

"Wait here," he tells Gin, and vanishes inside the shop. Returning with a scarf. He isn't sure what colour it is. He grabbed it in haste after the briefest consideration of size and pattern. But he knows _exactly_ what colour it is when he drapes it around Gin's neck. And sees the intricate, and accurate, constellations patterned against the darker background.

_**Blue. **_

But not just any blue. Blue of the nighttime starry sky. Superbly contrasted by the silver of Gin's hair, and the paleness of Gin's skin. And to Aizen, Gin looks for all the world like the Moon among the stars.

And it's that image, along with the brown of the stew they share after, that warms his cold, cold bones.

. . .

At some point, _**white**_ comes. But it's not white as he knows it.

White comes in the form of Gin's little pet fox Cherry. Gin introduces him to her one evening, and he's instantly captivated.

Her fur isn't just white, but a multitude of shades and tones. And the experience is made even better when Cherry takes a liking to him as Gin watches and smiles, filling his world with yet more vibrancy and colour.

He's quietly fussing the fox, sitting on the sofa with Gin, feeling safer than he has in a _long_ time, when the shutter of a camera closes and they're captured forever on film. And in the few minutes, if not hours after that, _**sepia **_fills his world as they sit for photograph after photograph together at Rangiku's insistence.

He takes his favourite photos of them home, and it's the first family photograph he's been in for at _least_ six decades. If not his whole life. The ice has already been knocked from his bones, and alone at home afterwards, it's all he can do to not choke up at the realisation as the photos make their way into frames.

. . .

_**Green **_follows shortly after.

He'd responded to the lavender with a gladiolus. "You wound me," and the lavender is still in his mind as he drinks the voice telling him he's worthless away, the horrible feelings away, everything away.

It is only when Gin came in that he stops. Although Gin has to drag him out just to keep him from ending up in a ditch somewhere. But Gin props him up and helps him home, even promising to stay with him when he asks. Albeit with much hesitation.

But still, the answer is "Always," and that reassures him enough before he passes out. After which, he wakes up late the next morning to find Gin in the kitchen, with a stick of white poplar and the warm minty green of peppermint.

The meaning of the plant is very apt, because it certainly fills his cold feelings with warmth.

. . .

When _**saffron**_ appears, it's like a bright light in the darkness. A break in the game and the clouds that come with it.

Keeping up the game has been taking its toll on Gin. Wearing him down and making him feel small. Aizen shares his feelings though he doesn't have the luxury of openly admitting it. It's why he understands, and tries to make Gin feel better. Saying "Fuck the rules, you're more important," when Gin asks about work.

And then they sit together in the garden, just enjoying the quiet. And Gin opens up to him about his troubles. Which leads to Aizen asking "how can I prove I'm serious about you?"

It takes Gin a moment to answer, but eventually he gets up and brings back a saffron flower. Light and bright and purple. Adding yet another colour to his world.

Saffron purple. The colour of _commitment. _And he cannot help but smile.

"Are you asking me to marry you?" he asks with a smirk, and Gin blushes _**pink **_again.

"My book said it meant commitment!" he protests. All cute and pink and _surrounded_ by colour.

"Gin," he smiles and shakes his head, "What do you think a marriage _is?"_

Gin blushes pinker at that and tells him he _knew that already,_ and then the both of them are laughing at their new inside joke.

. . .

_**Yellow **_comes into his world in the worst way possible. And it's a colour he grows to loathe. It's the colour of straw, the dirty blonde of his ex lover's hair as he schmoozes in, flirting with him, and makes Gin feel like absolute _shit_.

The man doesn't, or will not, take the hint, and in the end he has to get up and follow Gin out. His politeness can only extend so far, after all. And he has other priorities.

But by the time he finds Gin again, the damage has already been done, and there's no way to undo it. Gin already feels too small and inadequate, having convinced himself he needs to play the whore to get him to stay.

It takes several reassurances for Gin to believe otherwise, even in his drunken state, but not before Aizen has to reject his propositions.

Because Gin deserves better than that. And Aizen refuses to let Gin go through with something he'll regret later.

It hurts, of course. As rejection always does. But it is for the best.

He doesn't have a name for the colour of Gin's tears. But he knows it's a colour he never wants to see again. Not if he has any say in it.

. . .

Time flows on, as time tends to do, and Gin continues to add colour after colour to his once-bleak world. A part of him can't believe the difference Gin's made. The life. The brightness. The _colours._

Half of him is happy. So very, unbelievably happy.

The other half knows he has to be careful.

Because if the voice knew he could see colours now, it would be a disaster. Gin would get hurt, and he'd never forgive himself if that happened.

So he is very careful. So very, _very _careful.

Because one misstep, and it all blows up in his face. And the person he loves gets hurt.

Or killed.

He doesn't know which is worse. Because who knows what the Monster inside him will do?

But every day, his world is that little bit brighter, that little bit more vibrant and colourful, more beautiful – and he can't help but grow more afraid with each new colour that he sees.

But one autumn night, Gin drags him out to see the fireworks. "C'mon Sou, hurry up! We're gonna miss em!"

And he laughs, all of his troubles forgotten.

He lets Gin drag him through the town to watch the pyrotechnics together. And they hold hands and watch the sky illuminate. And he sees reds, greens, and _**gold.**_

It's a brand new colour, and as he sees it bloom and brighten and fade into the blue of the night sky, Sousuke knows he couldn't leave, even if he wanted to.

Even more so when all of the colours of autumn suddenly appear with Gin's confession of love for him on their way home. He _crushes_ Gin to his chest into an embrace. Autumn colours exploding all around them. Red. Orange. _**Russet. **_And as he shakily exhales he realises they're the colours he's been waiting for.

. . .

The years go by slowly, and Aizen savours every one of them. Finding he could get used to seeing in colour.

The sepia of photographs.

The brown of tea in a variety of mugs.

The blue of the nighttime sky.

The red of his Gin's eyes, and the silver of Gin's hair.

All the colours of autumn.

Colours he's grown to love.

Colours he can't live without, now.

And the voice knows it. The Monster knows it.

Which is why it needles him _constantly,_ searching for his weakness. For the reason he sees in colour now. It's all he can do to keep it at bay.

In the meantime, he listens to Gin talk about all the colours he sees – has always seen since they met – and has to resist the urge to tell his partner about his own colourful world.

He tells Gin about the flowers, not mentioning the red of the tulips.

He tells Gin of his favourite photographs, but not of their sepia tones.

He compliments Gin on the taste of his tea blends, neglecting to mention their numerous and lovely shades of brown.

And when they chatter about the fireworks, he does not mention the way they lit the sky gold.

He keeps the colours a secret, and hopes it will keep Gin safe.

. . .

When they get sent to the forest for what is supposed to be a simple cleanup mission, he gets his first clue that something is Not Quite Right.

It's an uneasy feeling he just can't shake, so he sends Gin away. _Far away_ from the source of the danger. Gin snarls and snaps and stomps his feet, but eventually he stalks away into the woods like the fox he is.

When he's gone, Aizen breathes his sigh of relief and looks to the forest ahead of him.

It is lush it is verdant. And it is _**green.**_

He takes one last deep breath – albeit a shaky one – and trudges into the forest. Quietly harbouring the thought that if terror had a colour, it would be green.

. . .

His suspicions are proved correct when he encounters a Monster the likes of which have never been seen. One that shows him his own worst nightmare.

He tries to fight it, but when it morphs into the shape of Gin, it's far too late to stop his blade from piercing flesh. Too late to stop his eyes seeing all the colours in his world in a brand new light.

Black uniform pierced by a blade.

Crimson eyes looking up at him, shocked and incredulous.

Silver hair the colour of a clouded over moon.

And dripping down his hand, staining everything, the deep, dark colour of _blood. _

"Gin?" he gasps, unable to even _breathe._

"Sousuke... why?" is 'Gin's' response. His voice hoarse and accompanied with a cough that only splatters more blood on him.

"Gin..." he chokes out. Feeling sick to his stomach. "I'm... I'm sor-" is all he can say before talons impale him and he loses consciousness.

. . .

He doesn't know how long it is before he comes to again. He vaguely remembers a fight, and Gin – the real Gin – coming to save him. Full of relief that he was still alive and still in one piece. Aizen isn't so sure about still being in one piece, considering how fractured he is, but he lets Gin have his relief. After all, now his weakness lies exposed for the voice – The Monster – to pick apart and peck at like the parasitic vulture it is. So Gin has to feel relief enough for the both of them now.

Lord knows Aizen can't anymore. Not now it knows.

Not now it knows who to use against him.

That's why, when Gin asks "You okay?", he lies and smiles and he says "I'm fine."

He isn't sure Gin believes him. In fact he's sure he doesn't, but Gin doesn't push it and just says he'll be there if he ever wants to talk. Which is far more than he deserves, but he's grateful nonetheless.

. . .

He does allow himself one night, though. One night of weakness and neediness. And he spends it just holding onto his Gin like the younger man might disappear in a puff of smoke at any moment.

Which as far as Aizen is concerned, is going to happen sooner or later. If the voice has any say.

So he lies in bed in the dark of night, holding onto perhaps the only other person in the world he's ever cared about, and enjoys it while he can.

He enjoys the weight and feel of Gin in his arms.

The smell of his home.

But most of all, he enjoys the colours. All of the vibrant hues, cooled now by the cloak of night, that Gin has brought into his world, knowing he must appreciate them while he still can.

Because who knows how long he has left to enjoy them?

So he holds onto his Home a little bit tighter, the person he loves more than anything in the three worlds, quietly amending his earlier thought; _if fear is a colour, it is silver, not green. _

The voice laughs at that. Mocking. Agreeing. And it's hard not to feel afraid. Not to notice the cold terror creeping up his spine like _ice. _

Gin may have brought life into his world. But now as he lies there surrounded by colours he never thought existed, he can't help but reflect that his world is far more dangerous now.

Too dangerous for Gin to be in.

Because there is no way he can un_do_ the damage, un_see_ the colours, un_love_ Ichimaru Gin and return the world to the dull, monochromatic, and most importantly, _safe_ place it used to be.

And that's the most terrifying thing of all.


End file.
